Take a Chance
by Whitewood
Summary: Catherine takes a chance.
1. Chapter 1

We'd been dancing around each other for months. When it came to her, I was like a moth to a light – I smashed again and again against the glass of my own fears.

A tap at my door made me lift my head reluctantly from the manila folder it was buried in. Dark hair peered round the frame and chocolate eyes regarded me seriously:

"Cath, are you okay? I walked past and saw you looking a bit lost..."

Sara trailed off, biting her lip. I sighed inwardly at her kindness. Damn it, why couldn't one damn thing about her put me off? Pulling myself together, I smiled shyly back at her and shook my head ruefully.

"Hi, Sar. Yeah, just a rough day! Snowed under with paperwork, you know?"

She nodded, and nudged the door a little. I smiled at her. "Come in? I could use some human conversation!"

That made her laugh. Goodness, how I loved her smile! "Any human conversation, hey? I'm a bit offended now!"

"Of course not, silly. I mean, you _were_ bottom of the list, but seeing as you're here..."

That earned me a mock-growl and a swat with the rolled up paper she was carrying. Sitting back, I regarded her happily. Irrespective of how much I felt for her, just having her around made the day better. Especially with that top on... Damn. She was talking. Time to listen now, Willows!

"... so what do you think I should do? I mean, it's a great job offer. And I love it here, but I'm not sure being in Vegas forever is top of my to-do list. You know?"

My heart tumbled off whatever hopeful perch it had been on since Sara walked into my office. I'd heard news about Sara's job offer from the boys, but hadn't allowed myself to really think about it. And now here she was, looking at me carefully with those big brown eyes, asking me to help decide. I carefully tried to formulate an answer, trying to ignore the hot pricking in my eyes.

"Cath? I mean, I think I'm going to take it."

Damn it, Willows, say something!

"Unless... you have a better idea?"

All or nothing now, Catherine. She's leaving anyway. Say it, say it, say it, say it...

"Youcouldstayherewithme."

Oh God. Did I just say that?! Sara is visibly shocked. I don't even want to meet her eyes. Fix this!

"I mean, you could stay here in Vegas, we all lo... like you, it's a good job, if you're not sure about leaving, maybe you shouldn't leave?"

I'm babbling. But that was more like what I meant to say! I finally look up, pleased with my save. But Sara has this amused half-smile on her face that sets the butterflies going in my stomach, and I doubt it has anything to do with my revised suggestion. Oh dear. I'm in trouble.

"Cath, if I don't take the job, I have a suggestion. I'll take some days off, you take some of those leave days you've been hoarding, and we'll have breakfast. And maybe dinner. Perhaps even take Lyndsey to the zoo."

Those brown eyes are alight with gentle amusement now. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, and I wonder vaguely if I look as flustered as I feel. Can she possibly mean what I think she does? I swallow, trying to find the words to reply.

"Um, Sar. Do you..."

Nope, I've run out. I blink rapidly, looking everywhere but at her. I don't ever remember feeling this nervous! Suddenly, she moves. Sara's hand rests gently on mine, and I look up to find her perched on the edge of my desk, worried eyes trying vainly to catch my gaze.

"If I've said too much..."

"No, Sar!" I finally find some eloquence. "I mean, if you mean what I think you do, I would... I would love that."

Something melts in those brown eyes. A full smile is gracing her face now and she looks beautiful. I smile back, still shy, but feeling happier than I have in months. She's standing, and I watch her hips move gracefully towards the doorway, a slightly bemused expression on my face. I think she understands, because when she looks back, the corner of her mouth twitches up and she clarifies our position slightly:

"If you're wondering where I'm going, it's to see Grissom. I need to tell him I'm turning the job down."

Oh. Hooray! I feel like dancing. But I content myself with a silly grin.

"And Cath, after shift, we're going for dinner. Me and you. So cancel your plans."

The ghost of a wink, and she's gone. I'm still smiling stupidly at the manila folder on my desk, the same one that had my forehead pounding against it only 10 minutes previously. A tap on my door has me looking up again, and I'm drowning in warm brown eyes again.

"Just a quick clarification – I am staying here with you. Not with the lab, not with the LVPD, with you. Okay?"

I can't contain the absolute sense of joy that spreads through me.

"That's much more than okay, Sara. Much more than okay."


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting on a low wall in the late Nevada sunshine, my sunglasses tap restlessly against my leg as I squint unattractively at the door of the lab. I don't need to look at my watch again, I know the time: 5.35pm and damn it, Sara is late. I push my hair off my face and rest my elbows on my knees, chin in hand, as a series on unfamiliar doubts wash over me. I should have known that practically declaring my undying devotion to Sara would have had some effect, but I didn't expect this vulnerability! What if she doesn't appear? What if she's transferring state, she took the job, she didn't tell Grissom, she's late because she regrets making plans with me, she...

"You know, as cute as you look when you're frustrated, I'm not sure I want to date an angry person".

Date? Cute?! My eyes snap up, inadvertently travelling all the way up the long, toned body, to be caught in the laughing gaze of a certain brown-haired CSI. Um... I open my mouth to reply, but Sara cuts me off. Balancing carefully next to me, she pushes her sunglasses up, sweeping away her hair and leaving her eyes looking questioningly into mine. Some of that bravado has gone now. Cool fingers touch the back of my hand where it's gripping the concrete of the wall, and I almost jerk away in shock.

"Cath, I'm so sorry I'm so late. I got caught up, and I had to finish..."

Oh! I finally catch on to what she thinks the problem is. And I also realize that I haven't said anything since she walked outside. I start simply: "Hi". I smile at her, and I am pleased when she shuts up and a smile starts to twitch the corners of her lips. Various thoughts are tumbling through my head one after the other – her fingertips on my skin, the happy light in her eyes, the way our knees are almost touching, the fact that she's still in the state and wearing her ID and how she said we were dating...! I've got a silly grin on again. I can't help it. And now I know she's staying, I can feel some of the nervous butterflies start to settle down. She's staying. For me.

I flip my hand over and catch her fingers in a loose grip. Standing up, I put my sunglasses on and teasingly push hers down from their jaunty position atop her head, watching with satisfaction as those long legs straighten until she is standing beside me. She looks down to where our hands are still loosely joined. I take a deep breath.

"Sara. Hi. It doesn't matter that you're late, it matters that you're here." I'm smiling now, head on one side as I drink her in, bubbly happiness welling up inside. I finally release her captive fingers and she takes her hand back uncertainly. I turn away from her and take a step towards the carpark, tossing my next words over my shoulder: "so, you said something about dinner?"

The trance is broken and she's walking after me, long legs quickly bringing her to my side. Her smile is wider than I've ever seen it, and inside a little voice is daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, it's all for me. "Yep, dinner." She's serious now, but with a hint of laughter, and I love it. "There's a new French restaurant over on 5th, and I'm taking you there. No arguments."

I don't demur, following her lead as we cross the asphalt to her car. She opens the passenger door then crosses to her side, eyes holding mine all the time. We're pulling smoothly onto the road, with the windows wound down in the warm dusk and soft jazz coming from the radio, when the next words break our peaceful silence.

"You think I'm cute, hmm?" I raise an eyebrow at her profile, and I am rewarded by a slight flush and the hint of a rueful smile. But then she seems to decide something, and as she turns her head to look me in the eye, I can see the challenge in her face. It's my turn for shock now as her free hand laces its fingers with mine, the loose hold gentle but unmistakeable in meaning.

"Yes. I do. Always have."

My heart is practically beating out of my chest as a goofy smile takes over my face. But I have one more question:

"And you think we're dating?"

Her gaze falters, but she holds my eyes bravely. I suddenly notice that we have pulled over, and the car is now filled with the last red rays of the sunset as we sit motionless by the quiet road. "Well that depends, Cath. I want to have dinner with you tonight, and maybe some other night. And I want to spend time with Lyndsey and I want to hold your hand, just like this. And maybe..." Her voice is cracking, but I need to hear her say this. My eyes plead silently with her to go on, and she takes a deep breath. "... I want to kiss you. And date you. And see how this works out. Would that okay with you?"

I squeeze her hand, because I can't trust myself to reply right now. It doesn't matter anyway - she can see every word written across my face.

She lets go of my hand and I sit back in my seat as she puts the car in drive and we pull away. I reach for her hand again, and revel in the familiarity of her fingers entwining with mine. For the second time in a day, I hear myself saying the same words.

"That's much more than okay, Sara. Much more than okay."


	3. Chapter 3

The evening has settled warmly over the city, the night air still clinging to the smell of the day just passed as the famous lights blaze into life. We drive in silence, turning street corners quietly, and Sara looks peaceful. My heart is still drumming a cheerful tattoo in my chest, and I am fighting to keep my smile from taking over my face. She likes me! I would have to do the happy dance on my own time. But damn, she likes me. Sara's thumb is making lazy circles on my palm, and as she shifts slightly in her seat, our tangled fingers are pulled into her lap. So this is happiness.

We pull up to the restaurant and she gives me back my hand to put the car in park. I can't quite take my eyes away from her, but I am dragged from my reverie by an amused chuckle and her husky voice - "coming in?". Her eyes hold mine and I can't resist but to touch her cheek with one finger. So beautiful. Shaking myself mentally, I smile in response and throw her a ghost of a wink as I reply.

"Of course. Do I recall something about you buying?" She laughs at that, giving a light slap to the back my hand, which is conveniently still resting on the edge of her chair.

"Move, Willows, or I might re-think the whole dinner plan. My stomach waits for no woman!" I grin at her and hop out of the car. She is the picture of nonchalance as she flicks the automatic lock and saunters towards the door, throwing a smile over her shoulder, almost as though ... Almost as though what? She's done this alot? What, taken women to dinner?! Damn it, this is ridiculous. I really need to stop being so nervous. 'Pull it together!' I realize I am muttering to myself, and that this is probably not an attractive quality, so I cajole my legs into action and walk quickly after Sara. Breath. Just breath.

She picks a table near one of the windows, out of the way of the bustle, and I slip into my seat. Sitting across from her, as she chats to the Maitre D' and pours over the wine list, I can mercifully feel my nerves melting away. I pick up my menu and have to fight my smile at how our eyes keep flicking up to meet over the top of the specials lists. The look in those brown eyes is slightly shy, but overall, as I study her, I realize she looks happy. Maybe we had both wanted this for a while.

And damn, what impeccable taste in restaurants! Sophisticated and understated all at once, I understand why we came here. It almost doesn't feel like Vegas. As two glasses of wine arrive, I realize her good taste isn't confined to restaurants, and a sigh of appreciation escapes me as I feel the crisp dry white slide down the back of my throat. She tips her glass at me and I smile at her. This is all so very perfect.

"So, what do you want to eat?" For the fifteenth time today, I shake myself from my Sara-induced spell, and cast a critical eye down the list of dishes and courses. The choice is mind-boggling, and I am lost until I catch sight of a set menu for two. Yay! My terrible french accent will only have to deal with one order, not three.

"How about this?" I suggest, and after we've ordered we sit back in our chairs. Her legs are resting comfortably against mine under the table and the conversation is easy. I make her laugh with a light account of Lyndsey's trials with Math at school, and she returns the favour with a story of how she learned to surf – slowly, painfully, and with the help of one concussion and a broken finger. "I did a nose dive in a shallow bit!" She's laughing and relaxed. "I can surf fine now though," she adds with a hint of defensiveness, so I catch her hand in mine and tease her a little.

"I'm sure you can. One of these days, you can take Lindsey off my hands for me and teach her to rock the waves. However, I draw the line at giving my daugher concussions. She understands too little Math as it is. "

She laughs and swats my hand again, but I notice happily that she doesn't untangle her fingers. "Honestly, you ask a woman out to dinner, and she takes the first opportunity to give you her kid..."

We trade stories and ideas as we eat, the conversation occasionally drifting to work but quickly moving away again. This isn't about two work colleagues having dinner, and it's easy, as I get to know Sara Sidle, charming woman, to forget that I work with her. When my phone rings, I almost don't answer it, but Sara rolls her eyes at me and says "answer it. I'm not going anywhere". My heart smiles at that, so reluctantly I extract it from my pocket and flip it open to hear my neighbour informing me that Lindsey has just thrown up. "What?!" Sara's brown eyes hold mine as I listen worriedly to Marg, and the quick flash of disappointment in them is hidden by soft understanding when I eventually say that I'll leave now and flip the phone shut.

"I'm really sorry Sar, I have to go." I'm apologetic but she's smiling and shaking her head at me, and before I know it her hand is in mine, her voice overiding my apologies, and we're moving towards the exit. I try to protest as she pays the bill but one slim finger against my lips silences me. We walk out into the Vegas night, standing very close together, and it is with sadness that I realize our night is over. I love my daugher, but damn, what terrible timing... Suddenly, a thought hits me. We came in Sara's car! Oh no.

"Hey, you look confused. Okay, now you look worried." Sara has stopped and is standing inches from me, head on one side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she watches the thoughts play out on my face. "What's wrong, Cath?"

For a second, all I can think or feel is her closeness, the heat radiating from her, the touch of her breath on my face, but then I remember what she's asked and I motion, vaguely annoyed at the situation, to the car we came in. The ONE car. Her eyes follow my gesture.

"Oh. I understand. No problem, I'll drive you home. It's the least I can do as it is my fault your car is still at the office".

I smile in relief, and although I feel bad at her kindness, I know it's sensible. For the second time today, I touch her cheek with one finger as I smile at her. "Thanks, that'd be great. Oh, and so you know, I'm very glad that my car is still at the office. Otherwise, both my car and I would be at home."

"I'm glad too." She says it solemnly and my butterflies explode in my stomach as I realize she truly means it. The mood snaps as she gives me a little shove towards the car, saying lightly "now come on! Your daughter's stomach apparently will wait for no woman either!"

We talk all the way to my neighbour's driveway, and as we pull up, I feel that sudden rush of disappointment again. Catching on to it (damn, how did she get so good at reading me?!), Sara jumps out of the car and alleviates my slight confusion a couple seconds later by pulling open my door. "Anyone would think you're trying to get rid of me" I tease, as I slip down until I'm standing on the sidewalk. Sara smiles at me and shakes her head. "Nope. What I wanted to do was this." With that, she steps carefully into my personal space, moving a lock of hair back from my cheek, sending shivers through me. Her arms wrap lightly around my waist and mine move almost of their own accord until they're around her neck. Leaning against the car, I pull her against me, and can't deny the happy sigh as every part of us connects.

She speaks softly into my hair. "I don't want you to be confused about this Cath. I had a wonderful time, and you had to leave early, so what? There's going to be lots of other times." She pulls back a little to look me in the eyes as she repeats herself - "lots. Okay?"

I nod, lost in her earnest gaze. I whisper the words that are becoming a standing joke, "much more than okay", and she laughs at me while her fingers trail gently down the side of my face. Feeling bold, I turn my head quickly and plant a quick kiss on a tip. I need her to understand something before she leaves. "Sar, I'm not usually this nervous, or shy, or insecure. It's just that, this time, it's you. And it's special and it means something and ..." Her eyes are soft and bright in the glow of the street lamp, and I almost miss it as she cuts me off by placing a tiny kiss on the corner of my mouth. As she pulls back, my stomach is doing backflips, and I can't help my silly smile. She returns it in full, as she says "And I'm not usually this bold. But I can't help myself when it comes to you."

The hug ends and she steps back, the hint of a blush on her cheeks, before she gives me a little push towards Marg's door. Climbing into her car, she slides down her window to tell me that she'll pick me up for work tomorrow. Damn, my car, I forgot. "Thanks", I say weakly, and she smiles at me as she begins to pull away. I watch her tailights disappear in the distance, and my happy grin is threatening to take over my face. I touch the corner of my lips where she kissed me.

Wow. Just, wow.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry this update took a while, I was trying to figure out exactly what I wanted to do with them. This the first fanfiction I've ever written so reviews are most definitely appreciated! _

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Slipping into my chair, I run a hand through my hair as I pull the huge stack of paper on my desk towards me. I don't even want to look at the clock – it'll say 4.30, or some other obnoxiously late set of numbers, and that means I only have a few hours before shift ends and this report has to be on Grissom's desk. My hair is still wet from the shower I took when we got back from the crime scene – the shower that was supposed to wash away all those horrible little bits of desert dust, and just as importantly, that hopeless feeling of yet another mutilated body, another useless waste of a life. My hair is still wet, and the feeling still clings to me. I know my job is necessary, and I love the satisfaction and pride in finding that crucial evidence that locks away a perp, but as I sit, shivering slightly, in a dark office at 4:30 in the morning, I wonder if I shouldn't have chosen a profession that wouldn't invade every part of my life. My thoughts turn to the daughter I rarely see, tucked up in bed with red-gold hair peeking over the top of the comforter, and then to their favourite (illicit) subject: Sara. It's been a week since our date, and 6 days, 12 hours since our thoughtful Vegas criminals apparently decided to step up activity. The shift had swung back to nights, our caseloads had trebled and the fleeting glimpses I caught of her were simply not enough. Sighing, I wished beyond anything that I had the courage to simply storm into whatever lab she was currently occupying and kiss her senseless. It had only been a week, but I was feeling thoroughly Sara-deprived.

Two and a half hours later, I pushed open the door to Gris' office only to discover the reason that no typical gruffness had answered my knock: he was asleep, face down, in a pile of papers that more than rivalled mine. Smiling, I silently thanked whoever was listening that the folder I was about to deposit on his desk contained the complete report on our final open case, and that we could all go home and sleep off the effects of a harrowing week. Sliding it gently into his in-tray, I coughed quietly in an attempt to get a response - he snuffled, turned his head slightly, and promptly fell back asleep again. I sighed. Great. I was just considering how best to wake the sleeping supervisor, when a bang of the office door against the wall indicated a new arrival.

"Damn it, Gil!" The owner of the voice was clearly on something of a rampage, but pulled up quickly when she noticed unexpected state of the room's occupants. "Er... sorry. I thought..." Sara's suddenly-sheepish voice tailed off as I straightened up and turned around to face her. God, even with her shirt rumpled and untucked, and sleepiness written into every line of her face, the simple beauty facing me still took my breath away and I couldn't help but smile at her confusion.

"Morning, Sar. Got a problem?" She recognised the tease in my voice and smiled back at me. "No," she teased back, "I just like to keep Gris on his toes." I settled against the side of Gil's desk and watched as she leaned against the doorframe, the atmosphere in the office becoming slightly more intimate as we just took in the other's presence. "Some week, hmm?" I asked, needing desperately to prolong the moment. "Some week. I haven't seen you at all." My stomachs flipped at the thought that she had noticed, but her eyes were a little worried as they held mine, and I had a sudden urge to reassure her. "Sar, it's not your fault. It's been so busy..." I tailed off, and my next words came out before I even had time to censor them. "I missed you." Damn it, Cath! It's been a week, she's probably even forgotten that you went out for dinner at all, she's certainly forgotten that tiny kiss you've replayed all week in your head, and then you have go and tell her you _miss _her?! When I finally force my eyes up to meet hers, my internal monologue screeches to a relieved halt as the happy relief in her eyes and smile tell me it was the right thing to say. She pushes her long frame easily off the doorway and moves closer to the desk, where I realize with a sudden start that Grissom has slept through the whole exchange. At least, I hope he has, but a quick glance down at the greying head confirms that he did indeed miss a situation whose atmosphere, more than anything else, would have been awkward to explain. Sara is now standing close enough that I have to fight every instinct in my body, which are screaming for me to throw my arms around her. Her body language is open as she stands facing me, hands in her pockets, and I almost give in to the comforting pretence that I can feel the warmth radiating off her... She clears her throat, and I realize that I haven't met her eye since she disengaged herself from the door frame. I start as warm fingers push my chin up until brown eyes can hold mine. "I missed you too, Cath. More than I want to admit." Her tone is rueful but I give her a full smile as my heart does a tap dance, hopefully letting her know that she wasn't the only one. Her husky words resonate within me, and I can feel my insides melting. I've never reacted as primally to anyone as I do to Sara. Her touch, her proximity, the ease with which I am falling completely in love with her ... wait, WHAT?! I catch that last train of thought and am in the midst of giving it a forceful examination, when Grissom's head stirs by my hip, and I step away from the desk to face a stretching, yawning, half-asleep shift supervisor.

"Sleeping on the job, hmm Gris?" I tease. He blinks at the two of us, giving his head a slow shake as if to clear it, and when he finally speaks his voice sounds a little rusty. "Um..." He clears his throat and tries again, a suspicious tone in his words. "Um, maybe. How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," Sara answers with a kind smile. "Go home, Gris." He nods slowly, catching sight of my report in his in-tray, leafing through it with minimal curiosity. Signing it off, he gets up; pulling on his jacket and digging through piles of papers for his keys, before appearing to notice that we are still in the room. "You guys go home too, alright? Good job this week. Both of you take tonight off - I'll see you tomorrow evening." He pats us both on the shoulder with awkward affection and trundles out, leaving us looking after him in surprise and gratitude. It isn't every week we get unrequested time-off, but it isn't every week that we work quite so hard either.

Collapsing into his now-vacant chair, I smile at Sara as she moves some of his extensive paperwork to perch on the edge of the desk. "So," I begin, "what were you in such a tearing hurry to say when you banged in here?" To my surprise, a blush sweeps across her face, and her gaze sidles away from mine. Interest peaked, I steeple my fingers and fix her with what I hope is a stern glare. "Do tell, Miss Sidle." She gives me a shy grin and apparently steels her resolve, before shifting on the desk to fully face me.

"Well, I'd asked him to make sure that you didn't leave." Her eyes try to leave mine again, but I duck my head to hold them until she eventually faces me again. "Cos, y'know, I missed you. And wanted to talk to you. And things." She gives me another shy grin, which from the feel of my face, is matched by mine as she carries on. "So when I went to your office, and you weren't there, I jumped to the natural conclusion that you'd dropped off your report and Gil had forgotten to stall you. Hence, my somewhat... hasty... entrance." She looks slightly bashful, and I am completely and utterly charmed.

"Hmm. I see. Well, if you'd like, we could go to breakfast? You know, celebrate the end of about three cases, and start of a well-deserved 36 hours off?"

She's smiling. So far, so good. I hardly realize that I'm holding my breath until she slides her hand across the desk and her fingers stroke gently up and down the back of my hand. It's only when she answers that I realize something is wrong. "Um, well, I'd love to Cath. You know I would." Do I? Not if the tone of this reply is going where I think it's going... She must have seen my disappointment, because the light touch on my hand becomes firmer and she hurries on. "It's just that I know that you probably haven't seen Linds at all this week. Like you said, we have 36 whole hours. Have breakfast with her before she goes to school, get some sleep, then maybe we could have dinner?"

I can't help the silly happiness bubbling inside me. I knew there was a reason I was falling in love ... Damn it, there's that phrase again. I would need some serious time to examine it, but now, as I looked from our tangled hands (when did that happen?!) to the charming, thoughtful woman across from me. If there had ever been any scales to tip, that response would have tipped them, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt how much I want the brunette in my life. Not just in my life, as a colleague, but _in_ my life. In every way.

"Do you like pancakes?" The question catches her off--guard, but she rallies, and nods a response. Buttoning my jacket, I stand and walk around the desk, grabbing her hand on my way past and pulling a surprised Sara out the door. Tangling our fingers, I walk uncaring through the lab, supremely pleased to realize that Sara doesn't seem to care who sees us either. Just as we reach our cars, I pull her to a stop, noting with an inner chuckle that her confusion hasn't lessened. "Sara, that was possibly that sweetest and most thoughtful thing anyone has ever said to me. And it only made me realize that ..." I catch myself about to declare undying love, and hastily switch sentences. "... that I really, _really_, want to have breakfast with you. However, I also want to see my daughter, so I have a suggestion. How about all three of us have breakfast? I've never heard Lindsey turn down either pancakes or an opportunity to see you, so I'm sure the combination will boggle her mind."

Sara laughs, the dawn sunshine reflecting off her hair a little, and I know her answer before she even speaks. "Sounds great, Cath. I'm just going to shoot home and change first, meet you at yours in 30 minutes?" I nod and grin, unbelievably happy in a way that only Sara seems to be able to make me. Hopping in her car, she blows me a kiss and drives away before either my blush or my smile have had a chance to recede.

Hot damn. This is going to be a good day.


End file.
